


Requiem

by Sarek and Amanda Archive Maintainer (Selek)



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Grief/Mourning, Terre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 10:24:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/734597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selek/pseuds/Sarek%20and%20Amanda%20Archive%20Maintainer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarek's family copes with the death of the family pet.</p><p>Written by Terre.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Requiem

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: I suppose you could call this an 'AU' as it bypasses the events in 'Yesteryear' but I don't really think of it that way. You could also say that it happened before that episode. (Don't think about it too much, unless you want a headache.)

Requiem

Author: Elizabeth Leicester 

Code: Sarek, Amanda, Spock

Series: TOS

Rating: G

 

Disclaimer: Paramount owns everything. I own nothing. Thanks for the loan.

 

Summary: Sarek's family copes with the death of the family pet.

 

Notes: I suppose you could call this an 'AU' as it bypasses the events in 'Yesteryear' but I don't really think of it that way. You could also say that it happened before that episode. (Don't think about it too much, unless you want a headache.)

 

In Memory of the cats, T'Pring and Mira

 

I'Chaya was dead.

 

Amanda had gotten up that morning, showered, put the kettle on, set the coffee to making, gotten the sehlat's food and meds ready and then couldn't find him. She knew this was odd. I'Chaya was always there, always present and always ready for food. But he had not greeted her in the hallway, snuffling at her shoulder and into her hair as she walked towards the kitchen, impatient for his breakfast. He was not in the kitchen either, lying on the warming stones by the hearth as he sometimes did, especially on cold mornings such as this.

 

Amanda wandered through the house, calling softly, looking in places she commonly found the large animal but there was no sign of the sehlat. Finally, she went back into the bedroom and knelt down beside the sleeping platform next to her husband. 'Sarek,' she called, knowing he would awaken instantly. 'Did you let I'Chaya out? I can't find him.'

 

The Vulcan stirred, used to his wife's interruptions of his sleep. 'No,' he replied and rolled over.

 

Amanda sighed and rose from the dais. She knew that would be all she would get from him at this hour. Over the years, he had concluded it was illogical to rise before the appointed hour, his appointed hour, which allowed precisely enough time to meditate and prepare for the day. And since their schedules varied, she was always the first to rise. The compromise was that he put up with her morning interruptions of his sleep and she didn't demand he get up with her. 

 

Amanda left the sleeping chamber and walked back down the hall to the kitchen. She entered the small exit hall and opened the door. The back of the house opened on to the desert, still wild and untamed after all these centuries. Tentatively, she called for I'Chaya. She didn't really expect a response. He would usually be right there at the door, snuffling in agitation, waiting to get in. That he was not increased her sense of foreboding. 

 

She put I'Chaya's food and medication back in the food locker and sat down to eat her breakfast.

 

 

~~**~~

 

I'Chaya was old. But he had always been old. When she had first come to Vulcan and Sarek had introduced her to his childhood pet, he was old then. He was the same age as Sarek, but she had been told that sehlats aged differently and he was already considered in the geriatric range. That was twenty years ago.

 

She remembered when they had brought Spock home. The sehlat had waddled up to her, curious to see what it was she held in her arms. She remembered giggling when the baby yawned and stretched and I'Chaya jumped back, startled by this strange creature. She remembered when she had laid the baby before the hearth on a blanket and the sehlat had come over to investigate. She had wanted to snatch her child away. The animal was many times larger than her newborn. Even his head loomed over Spock like some huge furry rock, ready to crush him. But Sarek had put a hand on her arm, urging her to stay at the table. She had watched as the sehlat sniffed and snuffled, going over every millimeter of their newborn son. Then he lay down beside him and there he stayed. He became the boy's companion and confidant.

 

But eighty-four years is a long time, even on Vulcan. The fur on I'Chaya's muzzle grayed and his movements slowed, hindered by arthritis. His sight was marred by cataracts and his hearing had also dimmed. In recent years, his kidneys had begun to fail. And he had become very demanding, as elder creatures often become. His snuffling would often become loud and agitated if he were left alone for long periods of time. Sand storms terrified him. His family always knew when one was coming long before it even hit. I'Chaya would become extremely anxious, growling and snuffling. They would have to sedate him for the duration. And it seemed he always wanted attention whenever anyone set down to work at one of the terminals. He was almost a fixture in the study.

 

And now, Amanda couldn't find him.

 

She finished her tea and put her dishes in the cleaner. It was almost time for her to leave for work. She could hear her son stirring, getting ready for school. He entered the kitchen, going silently over to the coffee pot and pouring a cup of the pungent brew.

 

'Spock, I can't find I'Chaya,' Amanda told him. 'Did you put him out last night?'

 

'No, Mother, I did not,' Spock replied as he came over to the table. At eighteen, he was tall and thin. She still couldn't get used to his adult appearance.

 

'I have to go,' she said, stating the obvious. 'You'll have to look around for him, okay?'

 

He nodded, seemingly unconcerned. She did not kiss him or touch him, even though she wanted to. By Terran standards, he was an adult and even by Vulcan ones, any excuses she had had for physical contact with him were no longer viable.

 

Amanda left the house for work, realising the inevitable truth as she did so and not really wanting to believe it.

 

An hour later, she received a comm signal from Spock. 'Meh,' he began. That startled her. He hadn't used that diminutive in ages. 'I'Chaya is dead. I found him in the garden by the pond.'

 

Tears stung Amanda's eyes. 'I—I thought that's what must have happened,' she said, struggling to maintain her composure. 'I thought I felt him last night by the bed. He never comes in there. Maybe he was trying to tell me goodbye.'

 

Spock's expression did not change, but she knew he did not approve of such an illogical speculation. 'Sa-mehk has wrapped the body,' he told her. 'We will cremate him tonight.'

 

Amanda nodded silently, even as she sensed there was something more, something Spock wasn't telling her. But the transmission ended shortly thereafter with nothing more having been revealed. She wondered how Spock felt about all this. Sarek would accept I'Chaya's death as inevitable, as part of the cycle of life on his planet. But Spock… Despite his Vulcan façade, Amanda knew there was a part of him he took great pains to hide, a part he was embarrassed and ashamed of. That it came from her only seemed to exacerbate the situation. She was a constant reminder of his imperfection, of his inability to be completely what his father wanted him to be. It wasn't true. But Spock thought it was.

 

Because she worked at the Federation Embassy school, Amanda was able to tell a few close colleagues about the tragedy that had befallen her family. And while I'Chaya's death lingered in her thoughts, her students distracted her sufficiently and provided some relief.

 

It was just after mid-day when she received yet another communication from Spock. 'Meh,' he greeted her. Again, Amanda was shocked. Twice in one day, he had used the word. Then he further startled her by speaking Standard. 'I am unable to concentrate on my work.'

 

Amanda looked at her son but could discern nothing visually. When he was little, his shielding ability was immature. She could often feel what he was feeling. But no more.

 

'Are thee well?' she asked in Vulcan.

 

But he answered her in Standard. 'Indeed,' he replied. 'I cannot concentrate, however.'

 

Amanda knew better than to hypothesise as to why this might be. Her son would quickly and categorically deny any emotional reasons for his inability to focus. 'Perhaps Osavensu Siril will dismiss you for the day.'

 

'Meh,' Spock said again. 'I do not wish I'Chaya to be burned.'

 

Amanda looked at her son, startled into momentary silence. Cremation was tradition. To suggest some other means of disposal would be to go against that tradition, to go against the Vulcan Way. Since his kahs-wan and subsequent Bonding, he had been entrenched in the Way. It was astonishing to discover that he was considering something outside it.

 

'What did you have in mind?' Amanda finally asked him.

 

'I wish to bury him,' he stated.

 

'I do not think your father will agree with that,' Amanda told him. She did not point out that a burial would be a distinctly Terran thing to do.

 

'I'Chaya was mine,' Spock reminded her. 'It is my right.'

 

So he was invoking Vulcan tradition rights in order to partake in a Terran ritual. Amanda suppressed a smile. 'Do you wish me to negotiate for you?' she asked, once again bringing up an ever present irony that existed in their family. Although Sarek of Vulcan was a skilled diplomat and negotiator, he was unable to successfully enter into any such dealings with his son. The 'talks' invariably broke down, Spock would stalk off and only through Amanda's intervention could father and son come to any agreement when there was a dispute to be settled. 

 

'I would prefer it,' Spock confirmed. 'I will see you at home,' he said and ended the transmission.

 

Amanda sighed. She was not looking forward to her next task. Yet despite that, she was touched. Her son, the staunch Vulcan traditionalist, who would endure torture before he would admit to being part human, wished to perform a distinctly Terran ritual for his oldest and dearest friend. There was some part of her in him after all. 

 

~~**~~

 

It was near dark when Amanda came home from work. The house felt huge and empty. No large, furry mound greeted her at the door, no snuffling of her hair, no incessant pushing until she got his dinner. I'Chaya was gone.

 

Amanda wiped her eyes and almost aimlessly wandered towards the back of the house.

 

Her son stood in the entryway to the kitchen, covered in desert dust. 'I believe I now understand the wisdom of our ancestors in choosing to cremate their dead,' he announced, his expression completely deadpan. He began to brush off the dirt with a small whisk broom. 

 

'I am able to dig down 7.8 millimeters before hitting rock,' he explained. 'Sarek would deem such an endeavour illogical, if not futile. Perhaps it would be best to yield to tradition after all.'

 

Amanda looked at the stone hearth which was devoid of sehlat. 'I spoke with him,' she said quietly. 'He was impressed by your conviction. And since you stated your rights as owner, he has no other choice but to abide by your wishes.'

 

Spock, now fairly dust free, entered the kitchen.

 

'You must not forget that grief touches Sarek as well as you,' Amanda added. 'Perhaps the garden would be a more suitable location.'

 

Spock looked at her. It was obvious that had not occurred to him. 'Indeed. It would be ideal,' he agreed. 'But it is too late to begin tonight.'

 

'In the morning then,' Amanda told him. 'There will be plenty of time.'

 

~~**~~

 

The garden at Ambassador Sarek's house was unique, to say the least. An overt legacy of his love for his wife, it encompassed well over .75 acres and was entirely enclosed by walls as well as a green environmental mesh overhead. This kept some moisture in, enough to grow non-native plants and kept those species from infiltrating the rest of Shi'Kahr. It had only two exits, both of which led directly into the house.

 

For Amanda, it was a little bit of Earth on an otherwise alien world. For I'Chaya, it had been a cool place to sleep when the desert was scorching. It was not surprising he had wandered out there in search of a place to die. 

 

That morning, which was a day of rest for most Vulcans, Spock chose a place where the soil was soft and plentiful. He found he had to use a laser to selectively cut through various plant roots but by the time his parents had risen and completed whatever it was they did on their morning off, he was almost finished.

 

Amanda was the first to come out, wrapped in a shawl against the cold and nursing a cup of tea. She saw the mound of soil, piled up underneath a tree, and then looked at her son, the top of his dark head barely visible from the hole he was digging. Amanda thought it was a fine hole, a good resting place for a loyal friend.

 

'I am almost finished,' Spock told her unnecessarily, as he climbed out. He was covered in dirt and mud.

 

'Shall I send Sarek out to inspect it?' Amanda asked.

 

Spock nodded and Amanda went back in the house and down to the kitchen where Sarek sat with his morning coffee reading a padd.

 

'Spock needs you,' she announced.

 

Sarek looked up from the report he had been reading, eyebrow raised. 'Indeed?' he rejoined. 'I find that unlikely. Spock has not needed me in 2.549 rotations.'

 

'Nonetheless,' Amanda stood firm, "his oldest friend and confident has died and Spock needs you.'

 

Sensing that further discourse would only result in an illogical and emotional argument, Sarek silently put down the padd. When Amanda was insistent, debate was inevitably futile. Taking his coffee with him, he went down the hall to the garden exit.

 

~~**~~

 

When Amanda returned to the garden, now fully dressed, she saw that everything was ready. Husband and son had finished digging the burial site. Both of them would need a good half hour with the sonic scrubber but she was content to see there was something they could still agree on.

 

Without prompting, Spock lit the garden firepot nearby, placing two incense coals on top.

 

Together, Spock and Sarek dragged the wrapped body of the sehlat over to the grave. They placed it in the deep hole and then stood, silently looking at the results of their work.

 

'I am unsure how to proceed,' Spock finally admitted.

 

Amanda cleared her throat. This was going to be harder than she had thought. 'You throw on dirt,' she said hoarsely, trying to control her grief. 'If it were in the open, you would need to put rocks on top to keep animals out, but I don't that's necessary here.'

 

'Is there not something with ashes?' Sarek asked, remembering a Terran funeral he had once attended.

 

'Yes, you can do that too,' Amanda conceded.

 

Spock went over to an unlit firepot and scooped up a handful of cold ashes.

 

'Throw it on top,' Amanda instructed him.

 

As he did so she was surprised to hear Sarek intone in Standard, '"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust."' Then he continued in Vulcan. 'Thee who were first my companion and then my son's, thee who heard many confidences and confessions, may thy soul pass over Seleya. May thy heart be at rest.'

 

With tears now on her cheeks, Amanda nodded to Spock, who then began to shovel dirt on top of the mound. After a moment, Sarek joined him in filling and covering the space. When it was finished, Amanda placed a stone at one end to mark the site.

 

'I wish to remain for a while,' Spock requested.

 

'Of course,' Amanda said and she and Sarek returned to the house in silence.

 

~~**~~

 

Amanda sat at her terminal in the study, attempting to work. It was an exercise in futility. She kept staring at the same paragraph of the text she was reading. The words didn't seem to make any sense. 

 

I'Chaya was dead. He had been the first entity she had met on Vulcan who had seemed genuinely happy she was here. He had been a friendly presence in a decidedly unfriendly world. Amanda looked away from the monitor. She already missed him.

 

She moved her chair back from the desk and standing, turned to leave, only to see her husband, now freshly clean and scrubbed, in the doorway. No doubt she was projecting her emotions loudly. In any event, he would know. He would feel her sorrow through the Bond. 

 

Without speaking he met her halfway across the room and allowed her to melt into him, his arms naturally enfolding her. '"I grieve with thee,"' he uttered softly. The words were traditional, but the feelings behind them were sincere. Through the Bond, she could feel his sadness as well. It penetrated and washed over her with the fury of a windstorm. And suddenly she was crying. Deep sobs escaped from her lips as he held her, as she expressed what he could not. Their grief was all encompassing and she was wracked by intense sorrow which seemed to come from the very depths of both of them. It seemed an eternity before the storm calmed and subsided. 

 

Amanda pulled out of the embrace, sniffing and wiping her eyes. 

 

'Forgive,' Sarek said hoarsely.

 

'Illogical,' Amanda countered. 'There is nothing to forgive. I'Chaya was a steadfast companion and a constant presence. Your grief is nothing to be ashamed of.'

 

'But my actions,' he began, referring to his projection of emotions upon his wife.

 

'Nothing you haven't done before,' she said, obliquely referring to their Times together. 'Nothing I haven't felt before.'

 

Once again, she slid into his arms, tucking her head underneath his chin. Only a few moments ago, she could feel only grief and despair from her beloved. Now with his emotions somewhat released, there was a kind of peace. The emptiness left by I'Chaya would linger for some time yet. But in all of it, through all of it, they would be together and their love would continue.

 

Amanda sighed, relaxing further in the reverie of soul union that had now begun. Their son, always struggling to find himself, to find his niche, had somehow found himself in this, if only temporarily. And she could feel that Sarek was not completely disapproving. Spock had stood up for himself, for what he believed. If pressed, he would cite the logic behind his actions and convictions, but it would not negate the underlying truth.

 

//He is our son.// The thought swirled around them, its origins unclear.

 

Once again it was Amanda who pulled away, now a bit dizzy from the euphoria that lingered, drained from the intensity of the morning. 'Spock will find his path,' she said aloud.

 

'If today is any indication, then I have no doubt,' Sarek agreed.

 

Amanda offered him extended fingers which he met with his own. The peace of their union surrounded them again. 'I'Chaya was the only witness to our relationship,' Amanda said quietly. 'He was the only one who knew the truth.'

 

Sarek raised an eyebrow. 'Perhaps,' he finally conceded. 'But the proof of who we are is in the garden, mourning the witness.'

 

A slight smile played on Amanda's lips. 'And how will that proof in turn be our witness?'

 

'That equation,' Sarek said, as he walked with his wife down the hallway. 'Is just beginning.'


End file.
